


Show Me

by QuillMind



Series: The Devilman You Love [12]
Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Body Image, Body Worship, Breastfeeding, Breasts, Comfort, Cunnilingus, Domestic, F/M, Family, Fluff and Smut, Insecurity, Jealousy, Keyhole sweaters, Lactation, Lactation Kink, Nipples, Oral Sex, Other, Possessive Behavior, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-12 15:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13550526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMind/pseuds/QuillMind
Summary: After giving birth, you'd taken to wearing your keyhole sweater more often out of convenience when breastfeeding.  A shopping trip cut short leads to the confrontation of a problem Akira's been noticing with you lately...





	Show Me

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt: _"Oh man, imagine reader wearing the titty window sweater while breastfeeding? That’s p convenient for both the baby and Akira but I can totally imagine Akira being super angry about anyone giving the reader too much of attention just because the cleavage is on display lmao. Or if the reader went braless and the nipples were poking through the sweater? RIP reader, the gon get banged hard either way."_

Your keyhole sweater had been something you’d bought as a cute and flirty thing to wear at the time, but following your pregnancy, you were finding it to be a rather convenient garment to wear when breastfeeding.  Sure, pulling yourself out of the opening did stretch the material a bit, but one of the things about becoming a mother was that you gave less of a shit about the smaller details—especially when a hungry, crying baby was involved.  

This did lead to you wearing the sweater out when running errands, too, like getting food from the supermarket or taking a walk or making quick shopping trips.  And while Akira would never want for you to feel ashamed of your body, he could help but be irked by the idea of you wearing the form-fitting, cleavage-showing sweater outside of the house.  He had no qualms about sending death glares to the dumb schmucks who looked at you just a little too long—even if they were someone you _had_ to talk to and look at, like a bank teller or store clerk.  

But when the weather became chillier than expected one day and you hadn’t bothered wearing a bra because the sweater’s dark anyway and it was only supposed to be a quick run to the department store and back, Akira’s eyes grew to saucer-like roundness.  

Again, motherhood and breastfeeding have made you not as concerned about a bit of nipple pokeage through clothing, but tell that to a possessive, sexually territorial Devilman.  You tried to diffuse his incensed attitude by calmly saying it’s not a big deal and that no one notices or cares, but that only served to agitate him further.  

In no time at all he brought you back home, and once the baby was settled safely in the crib, he tossed you to the bed and yanked your sweater off, fully aware that he’d ripped it a bit.  

“You think these aren’t a big deal?  That no one notices or cares?” he growled while groping your breasts.  “You with that fucking sweater on and displaying these tits, with your nipples all hard like this?”  

He squeezed, causing a bit of milk to well at the tips.  He immediately licked it up like a hungry cat while you flinched at the stimulation from his tongue.  

“ _Everyone_ notices,” he continued, going back and forth between sucking noisily on one nipple while pinching and twisting the other.  “ _Everyone_ cares.  Every fucking guy in the store saw and was getting turned on by the sight of you.”  

“B-but, Akira—“ you protested weakly, “I still—I’m—“  

Akira rutted his pelvis against yours and you gasped sharply.  He knew what you were thinking and what you were trying to say but didn’t want to.  

You weren’t so unrealistic as to think you would instantly go back to looking the way you did before becoming pregnant, but Akira could tell that you were still bothered by it and didn’t find yourself all that sexy.  You avoided seeing yourself naked in the mirror, covering yourself with a towel the second you got out of the shower, and sometimes hesitation bled into your reactions to Akira’s touch whenever he started to head in a more amourous direction.  

He slipped your pants and underwear off your hips and flung them against the wall.  He didn’t miss the faint flinch you made at being so suddenly exposed, or your hand briefly bracing against his arm as if reluctant to let him continue.  

It hurt him, it really did, to see you so unhappy with your own body.  And as loathe as he was to acknowledge others’ less-than-pure attention towards you, he had to agree that they were right.  

“I love you,” he said fiercely, cupping your cheek with his hand.  “You’re the mother of my child, but that’s not all you are.  You’re my best friend, my soulmate, and my wife.”  

Emotion welled in your eyes, but self-doubt still had its hooks in you.  A retort was on the tip of your tongue and it was silenced--or rather, overridden--by the moan you made instead when Akira ground against you again.  

“You’ve got me so hard already.  You’re beautiful and cute and so fucking sexy that I can barely take it.  Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re with me.”

Your breathing was thin and shallow as he moved harder.  You began craning your neck back in pleasure, but Akira stopped you and kissed you fervently on the lips.  When he pulled back you were both panting, and a thin thread of saliva connected your mouths.  

“I want you--only you.”  His voice was thick with lust.  While he let that statement sink in, he began kissing his way down your body, and whatever part his lips didn’t touch, his hands did.  The noises you made were reticent at first, but as he went lower, curling his arms around your thighs and settling his face between them, hesitation faded away and you became louder and freer in voicing your pleasure.  When Akira felt your hands grasp his head and pull him closer, he grinned into your wet core.  

Your orgasm sent you into a fit of earthquake-level spasms and blissful whimpers.  The fingers tugging on Akira’s hair fell away and he felt the tension in your legs and torso disappear.  He came back up with a guttural groan, licking all around his mouth so that not a single drop of you was wasted.  He didn’t miss the shudder you made when you saw him do that.  

“You’re beautiful,” he said with the utmost sincerity.  “Now and forever.”  

Light danced in your eyes as tears welled.  You stretched your arms out to Akira, and he swiftly dove into your embrace.  Soft sniffles and choked breathing were met with whispered reassurances gradually silenced by kisses.

Akira wouldn’t pretend to understand everything you went through as a mother, and he knew better than to invalidate or dismiss your feelings.  But you being unattractive or undesirable in any way was the most ridiculous suggestion in the world.  

He would guard you and the child you had together with his life, but he would also do everything possible to make you both feel as beloved and sublime as you were for every waking minute of your lives.  

Your hands clutched at Akira’s shoulder.  Humming with need, you raised your legs to wrap around his waist and brought him flush with your hips.  

“More,” you murmured quietly.  “Show me you want me more.”

Akira’s lips curled into a roguish grin.  

“We’re gonna be here a while, then,” he chuckled as he pulled off his shirt.  “Or at least until the baby wakes up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fashion talk and Akira's compliments on your beauty at [Tumblr!](https://quillmind.tumblr.com/)


End file.
